


Prove Yourself

by LesbianGhost713



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Freeform, I got some idea from loki imagines, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), canon divergence - avengers trials, canon has been thrown out the window, loki probably needs a hug, main character has hella bad anxiety, there will be a lot of fluff, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianGhost713/pseuds/LesbianGhost713
Summary: After an accident in her hometown forces twenty-year-old Noma Burgess to move 2,200 miles from the only life she's ever known, she enrolls in college in New York and lives with her eccentric great-aunt. She leads an average life. That is until her aunt enrolls her to participate in the Avengers Trials: an intense boot camp for those who wish to join S.H.I.E.L.D. She learns they've been searching for her, but they don't know that it's her specifically. Now, she must endure the eight-week program without anyone finding out who she is. The only problem is that one of the members is getting dangerously close to finding out who Noma is. What is she willing to do to keep her identity a secret?





	1. I Meet My Jesus Freak of an Aunt

_“It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one.”_

_― Rick Riordan_ _, The Last Olympian_

 

I turned my phone back on as everyone started filing off the plane. I put it in my pocket and waited for my chance to grab my bag in the overhead compartment, the only belongings I owned besides the suitcase of clothes that I would have to wait for at the baggage claim. An older gentleman noticed my fidgeting and allowed me to go in front of him. Grabbing the mini suitcase from above, I filed off the plane with everyone else hoping to become big in New York City.  
I, however, just wanted to forget.

The next time I looked at my phone, I had twenty-six new messages from my Aunt Denise asking when I land and when she needed to pick me up. Before I could reply, her picture popped up and my phone started ringing.

Sighing, I answered. “Hello?”

“Noma? Where are you?” she asked, a loud crash echoing through the phone.

“I’m at the airport. I just landed,” I replied as I walked through the busy airport towards the baggage claim.

“Oh good, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Aunt Denise, that’s not really necessary. I can just take a cab,” I say dodging contact with any of the strangers pushing past me.

“Oh nonsense. Cabs are too expensive for someone with as limited funds as you,” she replies, muffled.

As soon as I get to the baggage claim, I have to sit and wait for the crowd to disperse. “Really, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she says, “don’t go anywhere, and don’t you call a cab.”

By the time Denise arrived, it had been three hours of watching strangers greet their family. Memories of my own, watching them take their final breaths, it was too much. I hid in the bathroom until my aunt texted me to let me know she was out front.

When I got into her bright yellow car after shoving my suitcases in the back, I was mortified to learn she was in a wrinkly old t-shirt and dark blue shorts that rode too high for someone of her ripe old age of 53.

“Noma, I’m so glad you decided to live with me,” she says wrapping me in a one armed hug. She smelled faintly like a church mixed with some sort of flowery perfume. Her shoulder length white hair was pulled into a simple bun as a pair of cheap sunglasses adorned her face.

“So am I,” I lied. Not that she actually noticed. The only reason that I decided to move in with her is because it’s as far away as I could get from my old hometown. My parents and I had gotten into a fight over the same thing we always did: what I chose to pursue as a career. I’m twenty years old and they treated me like they could still control everything I did. The only reason I was even there was because of my little brother. I had gotten angry and the next thing I know, all three of them are on the ground writhing in pain. Blood had been coming from their nose and ears until they all just stopped.

I had killed my family.

I didn’t want to live in New York because of all of the people, but when I called crying hysterically, my Aunt Denise had agreed to let me move up there.

 

As she pulled into the driveway, I let out a heavy sigh. I opened the door and stepped out of the confining car and looked up at my new home as I took my suitcases out of the trunk. It was an average sized house for Idaho, but for New York, it was probably small. It looked like a trailer home, but somehow nicer. She opened the chain link fence and beckoned me to come inside. The three windows glittered from the sun protruding from the clouds. Denise opened the door and disappeared inside.

I stood outside to admire the light blue siding of the house and the big windows of the living room. I took a deep breath before shuffling myself inside.

One thing everyone around here knows about my aunt is that she’s a Jesus nut. The walls were embellished with various quotes and motivational posters declaring that Jesus is the only way to redemption. Bibles of every translation sat on her bookshelves along with all of the other religious bullshit she liked to read.

“Noma, if you ever want to talk, you can come to me or God. He’ll help you through everything,” Aunt Denise said softly as I pulled my suitcase across the threshold.

 _The last thing I need right now is a lecture on coming to God…_  I thought bitterly. “Thanks Aunt Denise,” I replied tucking a strand of my long dark hair behind my pierced ear.

“I prepared the upstairs for you. I figured you’d want your own space, so there’s not much because I tried to leave you with the decorating.”

“Thanks,” I said as I dragged my bags up the flight of stairs. She said she prepared the whole upstairs for me, and that’s because it was similar to a studio apartment. One big room with it’s own bathroom.

There was a small tiled area where I could put a fridge there if I wanted to. In one corner was a bed with a folded pile of sheets sitting on the mattress and in the other corner was a massive dest with a cup of pencils and pens. The rest was bare except for an old purple rug that was frayed at the edges.

Too much space for someone who doesn’t have a lot.

It felt empty.

Uncomfortable.

I set to work pulling the thin, dark blue sheets over the floral-patterned mattress. She laid the top sheet down and then did the same with the white comforter. Then I flipped the end of the sheet so that it sat on the comforter before tucking them both under the mattress. I sat on the bed and flopped backward. Staring at the ceiling I sighed.

Time to forget the past and move on with my future.


	2. I Get A Job And Meet a Really Nice Stranger

_“Waiting and hoping is a hard thing to do when you've already been waiting and hoping for almost as long as you can bear it.”_   
_― Jenny Nimmo, Charlie Bone and the Time Twister_

 

“You’re going to be late for your first day on the job,” Aunt Denise fusses as she fixes the tie that all employees are required to wear as part of the uniform. She stands back and adjusts the vest.

 _If I ever got out of here I wouldn’t be,_  I think as I wait for her unwanted approval of my work uniform. I was wearing a white button up blouse with a gray tie that had to be tucked into the black and purple vest. All female employees were required to wear some sort of skirt that stopped just above the knee. Aunt Denise had taken me shopping for several things for my work uniform and the one she had me wearing now was a black, purple, and gray plaid skirt with knee high black socks. For shoes, we were required to have slip resistant soles and my aunt had stubbornly insisted she buy the seventy-five dollar high heels.

She takes one last glance at my intricately braided hair and light makeup job before ushering me out the door. The messenger bag I always carried bounced against my hip as she dragged me to the car.

“I can walk,” I say as I duck down to slide into the passenger seat. “It’s not that far.”

“It’s windy today. You’ll mess up your hair we worked all morning on,” she replies before she shifts gears and reverses out of the driveway.

I stay quiet the rest of the ride; I knew Aunt Denise wouldn’t change her mind. My mom always said that woman was as stubborn as an elephant’s leg. There was no bending in her. I stare out the window and watched the houses slowly turn to huge apartment buildings and offices and businesses. Denise slows to a stop in the front of The Midnight Avenue, the small diner I was hired at.

The diner itself was small, but it always seemed to be full. As I walked in, there were already at least ten tables with two or three people each. All in all there were around twenty or so black tables. Anxiety bubbled in my chest as a woman with black hair in a bun and glasses that was previously sweeping the purple tiled floor waves to me.

“You’re Noma, right?” she asks as she tucks a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. “My name is Gemma and I oversee all of the waitstaff.” Her voice is slightly deeper than I expected seeing as how she was at the very tallest at five-foot-three. She bounced on her heels and smiles. “You’ll be training with me today since it doesn’t usually get too busy until the afternoon.”

I nod and follow her to one of the tables. There was a man, a woman, and an older gentleman all conversing quietly. Gemma introduced me saying that I was in training so I would be following her around for the day before taking down their orders.

After a few hours, she had me do some of the tables by myself seeing as how I picked it up so fast. The bell rings to signal another customer coming in. I turned and glanced at a man wearing a blue baseball cap and a brown leather jacket before I bounced to the menu box, “hello and welcome to The Midnight Avenue,” I say with a fake smile plastered on my face. The man nods and follows me to the seat before I set the menu down in front of him. “My name is Noma, and I’ll also be your waitress today. Can I start you off with a drink?”

He thinks for a minute before requesting a cup of coffee. His chin was chiseled and he scrunched his nose while looking at the menu. As I returned to give him his coffee, Gemma was walking by with a full tray of food when she tripped on a gentleman’s cane.

The tray lifted into the air, and without thinking, I set the man’s coffee on his table in one quick motion. Everything seemed to slow down except for me before I stepped forward to catch the tray. It felt surreal, almost like I was in a movie because of the way everything fell onto the tray in much the same way it was before Gemma had tripped.

Once the tray settled in my hand, everything seemed to speed up to normal and Gemma stood wide-eyed and stared at me. “H-how did you do that?” she asks with her mouth hanging open.

“Fast reflexes I guess,” I shrug before handing the tray of food back to her. She took it with shaking hands as I walked back to the man. “Are you ready to order or should I give you a few more minutes?”

He stares at me with huge blue eyes, “how  _did_  you do that?”

“My little brother was forever dropping things when he tripped. Most of the stuff were packages for my mom, so they were usually breakable. I learned to catch most of what he dropped,” I say shrugging once more, “about your order?”

“I’ll just have the Arcane Cinnamon Bonbons and the Dragonturtle Mooncake,” he says handing me the menu.

“Of course,” I say, “I’ll be right out with that.”

I walk back to what Gemma calls Server Alley and pull out a tin tray to bake the mooncake. I take a portion bag of the mooncake batter which was just cookie dough with white chocolate chips in it and squish it into the tray. I put it in the confectioner’s oven in the back of the restaurant before getting the bonbons out of the freezer. Setting three of them on a cookie sheet, I put those in the oven as well. Gemma found me back there waiting for the timer to go off since there were only a few customers and they had already gotten their food.

“Okay, what was that?” she says as she folds her arms.

“What was what?” I ask.

“Back there. One second you were by your table, the next you were three tables down catching the tray. How did you do that?”

“I told you, fast reflexes,” I say as the timer goes off for the mooncake and the bonbons.

“Fast reflexes my ass,” she retorts.

“It’s true. My brother would trip all the time and I learned to be quick to catch whatever he dropped,” I say as I pulled out the hot pans with oven mitts. I set them on the metal counter and walked back to the fridge to find the whipped cream and the rainbow sherbet from the freezer.

“You  _have_  to try out for the Avengers Trials,” she says as she follows me..

“The what?”

“The Avengers Trials. They’re coming up soon and you need to try out.”

“No thanks. I’m good,” I say as I dump a scoop of the sherbet on top of the cookie and cover that in whipped cream. Next, I take the plate of bonbons and the mooncake up to Server Alley. Grabbing the bottles of chocolate syrup and caramel, I drizzle as much as I could on top of the whipped cream and the bonbons.

“Come on, you’d be great,” she insists as she follows behind me.

“I don’t even know what that is,” I say before taking the powdered sugar and sprinkle it over the top of the bonbons. I then grab the cinnamon and do the same. Taking both plates in my hand, I walk over to the man’s table and set them on the table. “Can I get you anything else sir?”

“No thank you,” he says unrolling his silverware and setting the napkin on his lap.

I nod and walk back to Server Alley where Gemma is waiting for me. “You have heard of the Avengers right?”

“Um...no. Should I have?” I ask.

“Of course you should!” she exclaims in a high-pitched voice. “They’ve only saved the world like a bajillion times!”

“Yeah, I don’t watch the news. And nothing ever happens in Idaho,” I say picking up the pot of freshly brewed coffee. Walking over to the man’s table, I refill his coffee cup. “Is there something else I can get you?”

“No thank you,” he says politely. “I’ll take the check please.”

I nod and walk over to the register to print out the ticket. I place it neatly inside the black book and stroll back to his table. “Here you go,” I say smiling as I hand it to him.

The man places a card inside the book and hands it back. I take it gingerly and go back to the register. Pulling the card out, I swipe it and punch in my employee number to print the receipts. The silver name on the card glinted up at me and caught my attention as the receipts slipped out of the machine.

Steve Rogers.

Old school name, but it didn’t mean anything to me. Gemma, however, bounced up and down like a schoolgirl with a crush, and said crush just said hello to her.

“What’s got you riled up?” the general manager, Matthew asked as he hauled a case of fries up to the cook’s line.

“Steve Rogers is in our restaurant,” she squeals before he almost drops the box of frozen fries.

“The Steve Rogers?” he asks with wide eyes. He comes up to Server Alley and looks out at the few people at the tables. His eyes stop on the man at my table, apparently Steve Rogers, whoever that is. “I have to get his picture.”

“If he’s famous, he might have come here to get a little privacy from fans. He doesn’t really seem like he wants the attention right now,” I say before walking back over to him. I hand him back the black book with his credit card in it.

“Have a wonderful day sir,” I tell him with a smile before walking back to Server Alley.

“Before you gave him back the check, did you say ‘if’ he’s famous?” Matthew asks a little dumbfounded.

“Yeah, why?”

“You don’t know who Steve Rogers is?” he questioned incredulously.

“No,” I answer watching Steve leave the restaurant. “Should I?”

“Captain America ring a bell?” Gemma asks.

“Not even a sleigh bell.”

“How...why...what?” Matthew stutters. He waves his hands about, but before this very awkward conversation about how out of the loop from the world I am, I grab a busser tub and make my way over to Steve’s table to clean it up.

I set the tub on the seat and start gathering the dishes. Lifting up the plate that had the mooncake on it, there was a folded piece of paper and a twenty dollar bill. The note was elegantly written, neat and orderly. The guy had an obvious military vibe from his handwriting alone.

The note read:

_Noma:_   
_I want to thank you for playing it cool around me, and not like I’m a famous person. It was refreshing to be treated like a normal human being and not an object to be photographed. The food was delicious, You obviously deserve this tip. Tell your manager to give you a raise ;)_   
_You’ve got some good reflexes. S.H.I.E.L.D is looking to hire a few new recruits. If you happen to try out, I’ll definitely put in a good word._

_Sincerely,_   
_Steve Rogers_

That was the moment I started losing control of my own life.


	3. I Learn I've Been Living Under A Metaphorical Rock

_“The past beats inside me like a second heart.” ~John Banville; The Sea_

When I finally arrived back at the house from work, Aunt Denise was waiting in the living room doing a puzzle that featured an array of colorful socks. I open the door to the house and trudge in with my high heels and socks in my hands. I sigh as I shut the door behind me.

“How was work Dear?” she asks as I make my way to the kitchen. She didn’t even look up from the scattered pieces of the puzzle.

“It was okay,” I reply as I open a bottle of water and drain half of it. “I got a raise.”

“Already? How much do you make now?” she asks, sounding a little dumbfounded. I mean, I just started the job today.

“Almost ten dollars thanks to some guy that came in,” I say before leaning against the door frame that leads to the kitchen. “Both my managers went nuts when they found out his name was Steve Rogers.”

Aunt Denise’s eyes go wide and she grips the end of her puzzle table, “Captain America? That Steve Rogers?”

“That’s the one. I don’t really see the big deal. Who is he anyway?”

“You don’t know who Captain America is?” she asks incredulously. “How?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I never watched the news or read the news because it’s all just depressing sh-crap. Literally nothing happens in Idaho. Except for that one time that someone stole my neighbor’s cow.”

“Captain America was born in 1920-”

“He’s 97 years old?” I raise an eyebrow folding my arms over my chest still holding my shoes. “He didn’t look that old.”

“Let me finish. He was born in 1920 and enlisted in the military to help out in World War II in 1943. He was rejected several times before a scientist guaranteed his acceptance. After a little bit, he was taken to a lab and injected with a serum to make him into a super soldier by Howard Stark, Tony Stark’s father. He was sent to retrieve a special weapon from the Nazi’s control and stop them from destroying the world in the name of Hydra. To do that, he had to land the plane containing the bombs in the ocean. He froze and remained in that state for 75 years before he was unfrozen and became an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Very interesting story,” I yawn while stretching my arms above my head.

“You should get some sleep Noma, you work all week.”

“Yeah, I know,” I reply before trudging up the stairs to my still empty room and flopping on the unmade bed.

I rolled onto my side facing the wall and curled up under the comforter, not bothering with my clothes. Even though it was only four in the afternoon, I was exhausted.

One of the perks of being an introvert I guess.

 

The next week flew by without any more incidents involving surprise visits from superheroes, thank gods. However, my week came to a grinding halt after a surprise phone call.

I had been studying for a math test for Mr. Clementina’s trigonometry class when my phone started playing the Supernatural Parody of Shake It Off, an indication for an unknown caller. Without looking, I picked it up and slid the green answer button. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Ms. Noma Burgess?” The voice on the other end was high, but obviously male.

“This is her,” I reply sitting up.

“My name is Agent Phil Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D. and I’m calling to inform you that your application for the Avengers Trials has been accepted. The trials start next Monday at Stark Tower. I trust you know where that is?”

“I-I, yes, I think so,” I answer rubbing my forehead. “But I didn’t-”

Before I could finish, Phil hung up. I guess when he normally calls people, they scream into the phone and almost rupture his ear drums.

My mind kept reeling as I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I never put in an application to the trials. I didn’t  _want_  to attend the trials. It was just another mistake like my hometown waiting to happen. So if I didn’t put in an application, that left three people who had been pestering me about putting one in who took it in their own hands.

“Aunt Denise?” I call from the kitchen. She was sitting in the living room watching Raising Hope.

“Yes Dear?”

“What do you have to do to put an application in for the trials?”

“Well, there’s an application that includes proof of identity and that sort of thing, then there’s an essay about why you want to join the trials and how you’d help the organization,” she explains as she flips to Grey’s Anatomy. “Why do you ask? Are you going to put in an application?”

“That’s the thing,” I say leaning against the door frame, “I just got a call from S.H.I.E.L.D. and they said my application to participate in the trials was accepted. But I never put in an application.”

“You were accepted?” she asks completely ignoring the part where I said that I didn’t put an application in. Honestly, does this woman ever listen? She stands up from her chair and wraps me in an unexpected and very uncomfortable hug. “Noma, this is great! You’re finally turning your life around!”

“Denise, I  _didn’t_  put an application in. Someone else did it behind my back!” I protest as I pull away from her. “I don’t even want to be in it, but now I have to or it’ll look suspicious.”

“Is it such a bad thing though?” she asks folding her arms. “You hardly leave the house except to work and go to school. Your phone never goes off unless someone from work is calling you to pick up a shift, or someone from one of your classes needing notes. You might actually make friends with people who are like you.”

“People like me? You mean murderers,” I say unamused.

“Noma, what happened to your parents was an accident. You didn’t even know what you could do and now you isolate yourself to avoid hurting someone again, but maybe they’ll teach you how to control your powers so you’re not so alone.”

“I’d rather be alone,” I say before walking back to the stairs. “It means no one can hurt me, and I can’t hurt anyone else.”


	4. ~Les I'm Miserable~

_ “It became the strong against the weak, and, as it turns out, the strong were usually jerks.” ― Marissa Meyer, Renegades _

 

“Ms. Burgess, since you are so adamantly daydreaming, what can you tell me of the draft in World War II?” Mr. Tanner’s grating nasally voice pulled me from my thoughts. I still hadn’t figured out who put in my application, and the trials start tonight. 

“The Selective Training and Service Act was issued on September 16, 1940. It required all men between the ages of 18 and 65 to sign up for the draft. However, it didn’t actually take effect until October 29th. Fifty percent of people that signed up were rejected in the first year for either health issues or illiteracy.” I loved history, especially wars and African-American history. I studied this stuff in my free time and had a lot memorized.

“And how exactly were people selected to go?” he continues and sits on top of his desk. “I mean, they didn’t just pull names out of a hat did they?”

Of course they pulled names out of a metaphorical hat. “People didn’t want to go to war voluntarily. All men from 18 to 65 were divided by district. The district number would be written at the top of the application and then the names would be put into a capsule. The capsules then collected in a metaphorical fishbowl and were then pulled at random.”

I smirked. “So yes, they did essentially pull names out of a hat.” 

“Very impressive Ms. Burgess,” he says nodding. “For your first project this semester, you’re going to find a World War II veteran and interview them. I want the information you gather from your selected veteran to fill up ten pages. This will be due in two months.”

The class waited for him to dismiss them and all but sprinted out of the room. I shoved my notebook into my messenger bag and strolled out of the room with only one thing on my mind: the trials.

“Ms. Burgess, a moment,” Mr. Tanner calls just before I reach the door.

“Yes?” I ask turning around to face him. His greasy black hair sticks to his forehead; though from the amount of gel in his hair or from his ungodly ability to sweat, I’m not totally sure. His gangly limbs look amusing against his short torso and long legs. 

“I received an email from a Phil Coulson saying that you’d be missing class for the next two and a half months. Why is that?” 

“I was approved to participate in the Avengers Trials that start tonight.” I pick at my fingers in front of me; a habit that I was never able to quit. 

“You were?” he asks incredulously. “Surely you’re not serious. They only choose elite people to participate.”

“What are you implying Mr. Tanner?” I ask in annoyance. 

“It’s just...you’re so ordinary. How did they choose you?”

“If you’d pay attention, you’d find that I’m just full of surprises,” I say before sauntering out of the classroom.

 

Aunt Denise was waiting in the student parking lot like she usually does, but this time she was in an obnoxious floral print blouse and horrid blue khakis. Her hair was in its usual bun with the same sunglasses she wore anytime the sun was out.  
“How was Tanner’s class?” she asks as I slide into the seat.

“Repetitive,” I reply setting my bag on my lap and close the door before she pulls out of the parking lot. 

“You’re too smart for that class. Why’d you even take it?” she asks

“Because I like history. I thought I’d learn something I didn’t know, but so far, I’m just staring out the window waiting to learn new information.”

“Well, you start the trials tonight, so maybe you can learn something while you’re there,” she says while idling at a stoplight. When it turns green, she pulls out onto the main road and proceeded toward the house. “You got packed last night, right?”

“Yeah, I packed enough clothes to last awhile, but I don’t think I’ll last that long,” I mutter.

“And why’s that?”

“I’m not a fighter Aunt Denise,” I sigh and rub my temples. “I never have been. I still can’t figure out who put an application in with my name, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Why worry about it? You’ll do great in the trials.”

I roll my eyes and focus on the houses and buildings we pass, still trying to come up with answers.

 

Stark Tower is huge. I wasn’t aware of that fact until I stood outside the front door. I glanced up at the building covered by it’s looming shadow against the sun sinking towards the horizon. I take a deep breath and step inside the massive tower.

There was a perky woman at the front desk who smiles as I walk up. The counter is marble. “Hi, do you have an appointment?”

“My name is Noma Burgess,” I say timidly, “I was told to meet here for the trials.”

“May I see an ID please?” she asks. I pull out my driver’s license and hand it to her. “Do you have your Social Security Card?” I nod and fish it out of my wallet.

“Right this way,” she says after inspecting the cards and handing them back. She leads me through the tower. Pristine hallways, busy agents, everything a high security tower needs. There are huge windows literally everywhere that look over the city and I have to admit that it’s kind of beautiful. 

The secretary, whose name I learn is Callie Combs, leads me to a gymnasium complete with various workout equipment. There’s a few ellipticals, two exercise bikes, several racks holding different sized weights that eventually get to two hundred pound weights. 

In a secluded room, there are four people sitting on benches. “The first part of the trials are all about display. All the members of the Avengers will be watching you demonstrate your powers or skills whichever it may be.” Callie leads me to the room where all of the strangers inside watch me walk to the corner of the space. 

Being around people was never my forte. Yes, I know what you’re thinking: but Noma, you’re a waitress; you’re around people all the time. That is exactly the problem. Have you ever worked in food service or retail? Let me learn you a thing.

People are assholes. And people are also stupid in the worst possible way. 

One of the girls, the one with vibrant blue hair got up from her seat next to another with dark hair ending in loose ringlets and approached my spot in the corner. As she got closer, she smiled at me. I attempt to smile back, but if I’m to be completely honest, I would rather stab a fork into my eyes and rip them out. 

“Hey, I’m Sen,” the girl says. Her eyes are light blue, almost silver and hold intelligence behind the playful gleam. “You looked a little lonely.”

“Noma,” I reply softly and wishing that I could sink into the wall.

“Pretty.” Sen sits next to me a respectful distance away. “You nervous?”

“A little,” I lie. I’m not nervous, I’m terrified.

I guess she takes my distance as her cue to go back to the other girl. “It was nice to meet you Noma,” she says before spinning on her heel and wandering back to her seat.

 

It doesn’t take long for the room to fill up with people hoping to get through the trials. Mine was the only bench that was occupied by only me, which was normal. Throughout school, I would sit at a table and be the only one sitting there. I quickly learned how to entertain myself with my own company.

A woman with shoulder-length red hair wearing a black skin tight suit strides into the gymnasium first. She stops at a table on one end of the gym and sits at the end closest to the door. Easy escape if things go wrong.

She’s followed by a tall man with close cut dark blonde hair wearing a thick t-shirt with one sleeve covering his right arm. He sits next to the redhead and starts talking and laughing with her. They’re obviously close, but not in a romantic way.

After him is a shorter man with curly dark hair in a button-up shirt and dress pants. He sits at the other end of the table and glances out the window similar to an animal in a cage. He lays his hands in his lap underneath the table. 

A few people whisper and mumble as the next person walks in. He’s shorter than the others with black hair and a styled goatee. He saunters into the gym with an air of importance wearing what must be the most expensive suit I’ve ever seen someone wear (which to be fair was only around a hundred dollars from a store for prom outfits). He sits in the middle of the table. Definitely filthy fucking rich.

Next is a girl that looks no older than twenty-four wearing a red leather jacket that hangs to her knees. She has long brown hair, and I’m not gonna lie, she’s pretty cute. She sits next to the blonde man and the redhead and looks to the secluded room.

The next to walk in is a group of three people, one of them being the man from the diner that got me a raise wearing red, white, and blue spandex that emphasized his toned muscles. He laughs with another man with long brown hair wearing a jacket and gloves. The third man with them has dark skin, close cropped dark hair and a goatee wearing thick bulletproof gray and red armor and a backpack looking object resting in the middle of his back. They all sit close to the shorter man at the end of the table.

The last people to file into the room are two tall men, at least six-foot-six at the shortest. One of them is seriously ripped with biceps the size of my head and thick blonde hair that falls just passed his shoulders. The other is slightly shorter and more lean than the other, but he is by no means scrawny. He has long black hair that framed his face and curled near the ends.

They all speak to each other for a long moment before the redhead walks to the entrance of the room where everyone is anxiously waiting. Some of the others look as if they’re praying as she opens the glass door.

“Welcome to Hell kiddos,” she says striding into the room and standing in front of everyone. “You may all call me Natasha or Ms. Romanoff. We’ll be starting alphabetically and we will decide as soon as your performance is over. You will know whether you move on within a few minutes of your demonstration. First is Heath Ashton.”

As soon as his name is called, a wiry boy with long black hair and wire thin glasses stands up and scurries out of the room behind Natasha. He stands in the middle of the gym while the team outside hurled questions at him from all sides. The man with the long black hair stayed silent, brooding while staring out the window.

They must have asked him to demonstrate his power because he widened his stance as everyone threw some kind of object at him, everyone except the black haired man who rolled his eyes and continued staring out the window. Every object went completely through Heath’s body. 

Self density control.

They all spoke to each other in what looked like low whispers before turning to Heath. His shoulders slump and he slinks out of the gym. 

Rejected.

They call four people before they finally get to me: a girl with blonde hair and a crown of flowers that could teleport, a boy with silver hair that could summon a foot of snow, a girl with fiery red hair that could summon her dead grandfather, and a girl with short brown hair with Omnilingualism. 

They were all rejected.

My stomach ties itself into knots as my name was called through the speaker. “Noma Burgess. Alias: Overload.” I slowly get up and shuffle towards the door. Stepping into the main area of the gymnasium, I stop in the middle and hold my hands in front of me.

“State your name please,” Natasha says. 

“Noma Lynn Burgess.” The man with black hair hasn’t so much as glanced in the direction of the other candidates. When the words are out of my mouth, he focuses on me with eyes the dark color of the forest at sunset, the green of the leaves clinging to the last bit sun they could.

“And can you demonstrate your power?” Natasha asks leaning on her elbows.

“I’d prefer not to do it on one of you,” I say quietly and shuffle my feet. I clear my throat of the panic that threatened to rise.

Before the others have a chance to say something, the green-eyed man leans forward. “Use me to demonstrate.” His voice is low and smokey, nothing like what I expected it to sound like. 

The others look at him before looking at each other in confusion. 

“Brother, are you sure?” The muscled blonde man asks.

“She cannot move on if she does not demonstrate,” the green-eyed man replies before swiveling his head toward me again. “Proceed.”

I nod and stare him down, focusing on the flecks of light in his eyes. I let the anger I’ve pushed down for so long bubble to the surface: my aunt forcing her belief down my throat, someone who knows my powers putting in the application, the fear of being here in front of these people who could kill me. I let it lose.

At first nothing happened, but the man slowly started to look uncomfortable. His eyes flicked to the others and he tried to steel himself, but my power rolled through him. I could feel the tendrils of my ability digging its claws into his mind, rifling through the ridges and fissures of his brain. Blood began dripping from his nose and ooze from his ears. Guttural, animalistic noises escaped from his throat. He clutches his head and screams.

The scream pulls me from the trance-like state I had entered to use my power. Blood trickled from my own nose and hit the floor between my feet. I wipe the blood with my sleeve readying myself to run if necessary. Though, to be fair, I probably wouldn’t get too far.

Steve was the first to look at her since the others jumped to the man’s side. 

“Welcome to the trials Noma.”


	5. I Approve. This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She gets a room to herself, oh my

Callie leads me out of the gym with a bounce in her step. I look back long enough to see the black-haired man glance up through the crowd of his fellow Avengers and lock eyes with me for only a moment. The door closes behind me and I have to jog to catch up with Callie whose long legs carry her quickly. She rambles the whole way to the elevator where she presses the button for the topmost floor. 

"Oh, you'll love it here! Mr. Stark keeps all the technology up to date and the coffee is amazing!" she says. 

"I'm sure I will," I reply with a smile that I hope she can't tell is fake. The last thing on my mind is coffee and techy nonsense that I definitely won't understand. I'm more concerned with how I'm going to survive the next eight weeks.

As soon as the doors open on the right floor, Callie leads me deeper into the building. She taps on some kind of bracelet and pulls up a screen with a picture of my face in the corner. She skims the information there and then smiles at me. "It says here you like views and big spaces with big bathtubs to relax in. I think we have one more corner room with the best view of New York City."

I temper my surprise. Whoever the hell filled out this application knows me almost as well as I know myself, so that leaves out Aunt Denise. If she'd filled out the application, it would have said that I liked home cooked meals and being away from windows because that's what she thinks. I haven't told anyone anything about me.

Callie stops in front of an unassuming gray door with the numbers twelve dash one forty-six. She pushes a few buttons and tells me to press my thumb against a scanner just above the doorknob. After a few seconds, the door beeps and a woman's voice echoes off the pristine silver walls. 

"Welcome, Noma. I am Friday. I am the user interface secretary for the tower and will be assisting you for the duration of your stay here at the tower. If you should need any help, simply call my name and I will answer. Good day."

"Uh, thanks?" I say as Callie steps aside and allows me into the room. 

I stop and stare at the massive room laid out in front of me. Huge floor to ceiling windows brightened as I stepped into the room revealing the darkening sky outside. The biggest bed I've ever seen lays with its head at the bottom of an empty bookshelf. A white door seems to manifest and my curiosity peaks as I wander open to reveal a light blue tiled bathroom. The bathtub is complete with jets and the lip is lined with various soaps of different smells.

"Do you like it?" Callie asks hopefully.

"It's amazing! This room could fit my aunt's whole main floor!" I say spinning in wonder like a cliche storybook character. "Who's my roommate?"

"You don't have one silly. Every participant gets their own room."

"Are you serious?" I ask as I stare at her. "This whole room is mine for as long as I'm here?"

"This whole room is yours," she says before a reminder on her bracelet goes off. "Oh! Dinner will be ready in an hour and then you get to meet the other participants that were accepted. Be sure to be there okay? I hope you enjoy the stay!"


	6. This is Everything I Never Wanted

Callie wasn't exaggerating when she said that the tower was equipped with all of the latest technology. After Callie leaves me alone to unpack, I explore the room I'd been assigned. My suitcase waits for me on the floor by the massive bed that lays against the wall near the windows. The walls are a literal sunset with the ceiling a muted shade of orange that creeps down the walls and gradually turns pink, then purple as it reaches the floor. The hardwood floor is a dark purple with pinks and blues swirling in the linoleum with specks of white embedded in the acrylic making the floor smooth. 

Something draws me to the wall near a clear door leading to the bathroom. There's nothing particularly interesting about it, but I feel along the wall regardless until my fingers catch against a different texture. Pressing my hand firmly against the new tile, an empty wardrobe opens up. I blink a few times before finally deciding that now would be as good a time as ever to unpack my meager belongings.

After the few pairs of clothes are hung and folded in the wardrobe, I move to a small nightstand near the neatly made bed with a lamp sitting atop of it. I open the only drawer to find a ring inside with intricate gold designs and a beautiful Jade gem in the center of a wolf's mouth. I gently slip it onto the ring finger of my right hand. As soon as it slips over the second knuckle, a stabbing sensation makes me yelp and try to throw the ring off, but it stays firmly attached to my finger. 

"Ms. Burgess, dinner will be served soon. I suggest heading for the dining room as soon as possible to arrive on time," Friday's voice says from somewhere in the room making me jump out of my skin. 

"Th-thank you," I say after a moment to catch my breath. The ring on my finger glistens in the light and I hear a deep, foreboding voice echo in my head. 

Excellent, I have found a wearer. A good wearer, a strong one.

"Ms. Burgess, please begin on your way to the dining room."

"I'm coming," I say as I shake my head a little to somehow banish whatever the hell that was. I slip out the door in silence and lock it behind me before starting down the hallway with Callie's directions playing in my mind. Down the elevator, pass three intersecting hallways, and then take the hallway to the left. 

As I enter the dining room, there are seven people scattered about the room. The girl who greeted me earlier, Sen, is sitting on the couch in the corner with the same person she was sitting with in the waiting room. Now that I'm paying attention, I don't know how I missed the light patches of Sen's skin: vitiligo. She and the person she's sitting with laugh loudly and others in the room turn to look at them. 

There's a boy in the corner with short, curly hair and golden eyes that one could see even from a mile away. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans into the corner as if he wants to disappear. 

A loud giggle from the table grabs at my attention where a group of four are sitting. A girl with voluminous brown hair bouncing in tight curls around her shoulders throws her head back in a genuine laugh at something that was said. Another girl with straight red hair smiles proudly; she must have been the one who told the joke. A massive boy with scars dominating his light skin folds his arms over his enormous chest with a smirk and elbows someone with long blonde hair who covers their mouth with a snort. 

It looks like I'm the last to arrive.

Sen waves me over to the set of couches, "hey! you made it!" She exclaims as she stands up to greet me with a hug. I freeze out of instinct which makes her pull away. "Ah, sorry. It's a proper greeting where I'm from."

"No worries. I'm just not used to it is all," I smile as genuinely as I can, but my stomach churns and threatens to spill my meager lunch all over the floor. 

"It's Noma, right?" 

I nod.

"Noma, this is Hycis. Hycis, this is Noma," Sen grins as the other stands from the couch. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you," they say with a slight accent that I've never heard before. "Have you ever seen a place this big before?"

"No, not where I'm from. The biggest building is the courthouse and even then, it's not even a quarter the size of the tower," I say nonchalantly.

"The palace where I'm from is three times this size," someone from the table announces proudly. I glance over to find all four of them looking at us and I want to shrink into the floor and hide.

"Shut up you liar. There ain't no palace other than that fancy one in England," the scarred boy says elbowing the blonde in the side.

"There is where I'm from. I never said I was from Earth did I?" They mumble as they rub their ribs where the boy nudged them. He must not have much control over whatever strength he has.

"Then where are you from? Are you an alien?"

"By your standards, yes I am. I'm from a planet called Alfuria and part of the royal family in charge of creating alliances with other planets," they say matter-of-factly as if everyone in the room should already know who they are. 

"Alright enough bickering. Dinner's here," Tony interrupts as he and three other people dressed head to toe in black gear enter the room carrying a dozen pizza boxes each.

"What the hell is that?" the blonde asks, their eyes wide with both curiosity and disgust as the boy who elbowed them opens one of the boxes. 

"Pizza? You've never had pizza on your planet?" he asks, eyes full of betrayal. "What a sad life you've lived, my dude."

"Everyone come sit at the table for introductions," Tony says as he steps back from the table. The boy in the corner huffs in response and sits at the end of the table closest to the door. I join Sen and Hycis at the table just as Tony sets the boxes out on the table in some sort of display so everyone can get a slice of all of them. There's two or three that's just pepperoni, pineapple and Canadian bacon, meat lovers, deluxe, plain cheese, mushrooms and garlic sauce, alfredo pizza, and cheeseburger pizza. Every type I've heard of is sitting on the table. 

"Alright everyone, listen up," Tony announces to get our attention, "the other Avengers will be in here momentarily to introduce themselves and you. When they get here, you'll all stand up one at a time and say your name and what your power is. Not all of you were able to see what you all can do, so now's your chance to impress—or intimidate—your competition."

The table erupts into whispers about the Avengers. I, however, still didn't quite know who they were. My coworkers tried to explain it to me when they found out I was going to be in the trials, but my head was too clouded with the fact that I actually got picked to participate. 

All at once, the noise dies down and the people from before file in. Natasha saunters in and sits against the counter next to the blonde in black and the curly haired man who looked like he was in a cage earlier. After everyone from earlier files in, the raven-haired man I hurt catches me staring at him as he walks in. 

"Alright, everyone, time for introductions."


End file.
